


Lessons & Carols

by angharabbit



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A/B/O, Christmas, Christmas Smut, F/M, Father Ben, Librarian Rey, NSFW, Reylo - Freeform, blanket apology in advance, but festive, priestlo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angharabbit/pseuds/angharabbit
Summary: “Show me again,” he said, frustration growing as they bickered half an hour later, “show me again where this goes.”A cranky librarian and an arrogant priest clash on Christmas Eve
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 51
Kudos: 297





	Lessons & Carols

**Author's Note:**

> Damning myself for your Christmas porn pleasure

Lessons & Carols

  
  


“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

Rey’s face twisted in disgust into the speaker side of the phone receiver, listening more carefully.

“Lady, just bring me a good Christmas book in the next hour. Something special. Meaningful. Good pictures. All that bullshit. Just bring it, okay?”

“Sir,” she answered, sarcasm blended with outright anger, “it is not my job to leave a busy children’s program to hand deliver a book to you because you can’t be bothered to come pick it up.”

“Not your job? You’re a children’s librarian, and I need a children’s Christmas book for a service to-night!” the man on the other end of the line barked. “It’s for the kids. You do care about kids reading, right?”

Rey could feel her face ratchet up from a simmering pink to a hot red.

“Obviously I do, that’s why I can’t abandon the actual library program for kids I am running right now to play errand girl for you.” There were several other ways Rey wanted to end that sentence, but not at work, and certainly not within earshot of the kids currently creating a merry ruckus in activity room B.

“Listen, I know churches like mine help raise money to sponsor those programs, so if you want to keep seeing money slide into that donation box, you better get off your ass and bring me that book to St John the Evangelical’s.”

“Are you kidding me, you can’t just-“

“St John’s. One hour. For the love of God not a Santa story. I expect you to use your judgment.”

He hung up, the unbearable rude tone still ringing in Rey’s ears. 

How dare he take credit for her community programs? How dare he threaten her funding? Besides, this particular group was being single-handedly funded by an semi-anonymous donor. Kylo Ren had been providing warm clothes, a new book, a party, and a New Year’s hamper of shareable treats to the neighbourhood kids for as long as Rey had worked at the impoverished east-end branch.

She looked at the clock. Santa had left fifteen minutes ago, everything distributed, and the party could wind down now with their volunteers. One person could cover the check out desk for her last hour before they did the Christmas Eve early close. Besides, the people who came in for fresh books on holidays usually were the self-checkout type anyway.

“Oh I’ll go bring you a book, asshole,” Rey muttered, kicking her work shoes under her desk and shoving her feet into her winter boots. “You can take a piece of my mind with it.”

She signed herself out, grabbed the drippiest, most cheesy Christmas story she could find off the shelf, and cracked it open. The illustrations were the sort of finely painted pieces that made grandparents oooooh, and children mentally check out. Perfect. That’ll teach him.

Rey pulled into the parking lot of a small but grand stone building, the tall pointed roof finishing in a soaring steeple. The blue heritage plaque said 1874, but the building had been adapted to be made accessible. She hit the silver push button for the door harder that she needed to, her gloves white knuckle gripping the book. The slow grind of the door scraping across a thick layer of green and blue pebbled ice melt was loud, feeding Rey’s annoyance.

“Hux, is that you?” a deep voice called through the elaborately carved wooden double doors before her. “I need all the help I can get right now, if Archbishop Snoke hasn’t already threatened to strip you of your ordination just for talking to me.”

Rey aggressively pushed open one side of the door, the wood creaking at the hinges.

“Listen, I brought you your stupid book you presumptuous self-important pra-“

Rey trailed off, looking at the disaster scene before her. The vaulted ceiling was hung with crinkly blue tarps that shuddered in the breeze of industrial floor fans. Below it looked like it had snowed plaster. Gothic black lanterns hung by chains, the tall rounded pulpit, the communion table with hand-embroidered silk cloth and silver serving dishes, the elderly Bible on its purple cushion, the carpet, the front pews, the massive poinsettias, the Christmas trees and wreathing, everything, everything was covered in a thick layer of wet plaster.

This included the robed man with the shoulder-length black hair. He looked like a tragic snowman on his knees with a garbage bag and a wet vac.

Rey had never really been in a church before, but she was fairly certain none of this was normal.

“The hell- the heck,” Rey corrected under the scrutiny of a tormented saint in the stained glass window beside.

“The pissy librarian,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Just drop it somewhere clean.”

“The pissy librarian?” Rey eyebrows shot up. “Your behaviour is-“

“Stop,” he said sharply, running his fingers through his hair, leaving more white streaks. “Yes, I’ve been rude, and got a bit Alpha, and I’m sorry, but it got the children’s story book here and I don’t regret it. Now if you’ll excuse me, if I didn’t have time to go pick up a book you can imagine I definitely don’t have time to waste arguing.”

The priest pulled a hardware store face mask back over his nose and mouth, and picked up the hose on the shop vac.

“You can go.”

“Why are you doing this alone,” she couldn’t help asking, analyzing the amount of time it would take to get the room decent before a Christmas Eve service.

“Because I gave money out of the building facilities fund to a low income housing project, and the archbishop is teaching me a lesson,” he said bitterly.

“There isn’t enough money to fix the roof or bring in cleaners now?”

“Or there’s plenty of money,” he scoffed. “The leak that led to the ceiling collapse was a surprise and repairs will start after Christmas, but the choice to leave all the cleaning to me was personal.”

“When’s the service?” Rey asked, interested despite herself. She was good at making sense of chaos, like an overturned cart of books, and her brain was already evaluating, sorting and prioritizing tasks.

“Three hours. And when it’s cancelled it’ll be the last nail in my coffin here.”

“Low income housing,” she said, thinking. “Wait, is this the church that’s hosting the poverty summit in January?”

The priest’s snort was muffled by his black mask.

“If I’m not sacked by then. Congregation is happy, administration is not. Distracts from the cathedral the archbishop wants to build.”

“What can they do, send you back to Rome or something?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, they’ll send me back to Rome,” he said sarcastically, waving the hose around for emphasis. “If you’re going to chit chat you can help, or you can get out.”

“I’ll help, but you’re going about this all wrong,” she said bossily, dumping her coat and gear onto one of the clean back pews. She could see his unimpressed skepticism clearly as she approached the mess. He was younger than she’d expected, and what she could see was handsome.

“Take a mask,” he ordered, pointing at a shopping bag on a pew midway. “I have no idea what’s in this plaster but it’s probably a blend of horsehair, lead, suffering, and asbestos.”

“That’s hardly likely all at the same time,” she said, snapping on the mask and taking the shop vac out of his hand. “You need to work from the top down. There’s no point doing the floor first.”

“I don’t see why-,” he started to retort. Rey picked up the advent wreath and shook it. As the variously sized candles rattled in the wooden baseboard, plaster dust flew out of the plastic greenery, showering the carpet he’d just cleaned.

“Shut up, Pastor Asshole,” she said, holding up her hand.

“Father Ben, Pissy Librarian,” he corrected angrily. 

“It’s Rey, Father Asshole,” she altered, “and-“

“You’re going to get your dress dirty.”

“Like yours?”

“This is a surplice, I was already dressed for service-“

“Surplus? You get your dresses from the same place they sell British military sweaters and Polish gas masks?”

“No,” he said annoyed. “And my surplice,” he said the word carefully and emphatically, “was already dirty from the initial plaster apocalypse, so I’m using it to protect the clean cassock underneath. I have a backup surplice and my purple stole ready in my office for go time.”

“Okay,” Rey dismissed, not understanding or really caring what strange garments the mean man would wear. “Go get me a box. Anything portable needs to be taken to a utility sink or a kitchen sink and washed. Do you have clean linens for the table?”

The Bible she examined carefully, not touching the fragile pages.

“This will need to be restored.”

“It’s a tacky display piece,” Ben shrugged. “I have a dozen more Victorian family Bibles just like it in my office. Gives me an excuse to get rid of it for awhile.” He dropped the book, plaster and all, into a plastic grocery bag, and then threw the gold cord trimmed pillow into a trash bag. “Bye bye,” he said maliciously after it.

Rey spent an hour in a 1930’s kitchen washing and drying strange silver pieces, plastic decorations, random office supplies and water glasses she found behind the pulpit, wondering what she was doing there.

“Is this really the best way to spend Christmas Eve day,” she mused aloud into the echoing room.

“You tell me,” Ben said from behind her, picking up the heavy tote bin she’d finished filling and resting it easily on his hip. “Go anytime, I’m not keeping you here.”

“I honestly,” Rey said slowly to the discount yellow soap bottle, “don’t have anywhere else to be right now.”

“No plans tonight?”

“Take out and Muppet Christmas Carol?”

“Sounds like mine. What about tomorrow, meeting up with people?”

“Leftover take out and probably… more… Muppet Christmas Carol…”

There was a short silence. Rey got the feeling he was looking at her.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said formally, leaving with the box.

She returned to the sanctuary, a new word she’d learned, to find Ben’s progress faster than she’d expected. Taking the task list she’d given him as gospel, he’d finished the woodwork on the dias, the communion table, and was starting on the pulpit.

“It’s starting to smell better in here,” Rey said, sniffing at something that wasn’t plaster. The poinsettias had been shaken clean, wiped, and placed on benches at the back to stay clean. Maybe that was it. Did poinsettias have a smell?

Rey pulled her mask out of her pocket, put it back on, and began wiping down pews.

“So,” she said finally, “what do you actually do with the book you demanded I bring here?”

Ben’s head popped up from over the pulpit, his expression disdainful.

“I read it to the kids.” The obviously was silent but present.

“Why. How. Why.”

“It’s what I do for the children’s time on Christmas Eve.”

“What’s children’s time?”

“It’s the time, their lesson, the time for the childr- are you totally new at this, library heathen?”

“Yup, don’t know don’t care,” she said in a bright tone she hoped annoyed him. “You don’t seem like the type to like children anyway.”

He frowned.

“Children are not a homogeneous group to be liked or disliked like Brussels sprouts. They deserve to be considered individually as young people.”

“But,” she prompted, catching a look cross his face.

“Some are still assholes. They’ve got time to grow out of it though, before they risk turning into-“

“Cranky priests?” she supplied.

“Bitter people. You can go anytime you know,” he said firmly, disappearing again behind the pulpit with a roll of paper towels.

“You’ll never finish in time without me,” Rey said, cheerfully lording it over him.

“So what happens in children’s time? Some sort of indoctrination?”

“Yes, we clockwork orange them with hot chocolate, popcorn, and macaroni crafts in the classroom, followed by eighteen rounds of red light green light down in the gym.”

“Sinister,” Rey laughed.

“Pretty sure the volunteers will put on the Veggie Tales Christmas album while they do snacks, and that’s a kind of torture in itself.”

When it came time to finally shop vac the once-red carpets, Rey couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying. She sat on the front pew pretending to polish up last specks of plaster while Ben carefully ran the high power vacuum methodically over the floor, revealing clean strip after clean strip. It was mesmerizing and Rey felt herself melt into contentment as she watched the priest’s back and shoulders flex under the black robe.

“I’m surprised you knew about the poverty summit,” he said later, winding the cord of the vac around it’s frame. Rey was finishing a final wet cloth wipe down of all the small nooks and crannies around the woodwork that would take the bulk of the attention at the service. He’d made her take her winter boots off before she could walk on the clean aisle runners.

“I was hoping to meet one of our library benefactors there,” she said, poking her finger between a carved saint’s legs to clean out a chunk of plaster. “He’s been supporting my community project for kids and I’d like to thank him for his kindness.”

Ben snorted.

“Probably some trust-fund wanker trying to assuage some guilt.”

“No,” she said defensively, “I don’t think Kylo is like that. He seems to genuinely want to provide for these kids.”

“Doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive,” he said dryly, finally removing his mask and stuffing it into the trash bag beside her at the pulpit. Rey did the same, and stretched her arms over her head with a deep breath.

As soon as her lungs were full of air she knew she had a problem. A big problem. An Alpha-sized problem.

Deflating hard, Rey spun on her stocking’d feet away from him and over balanced. She fell into his arms, his face hard.

“You need to go,” he commanded sternly, righting her. “I thought I smelled a few whiffs of Omega earlier, but it’s getting stronger.”

“I’m not an Omega,” she lied quickly out of habit. “There could be a hint of Omega in my perfume, though, I’ve heard a lot of perfumes for Betas have a drop of two of-“

“Please don’t sport with my intelligence,” Ben said, turning his back to find the bag he’d stuffed the table linens for washing. He unbuttoned his dirty surplice, and slipped it off his shoulders. Underneath was clean black on black, barely relieved by the crooked collar. “I know what I smell now, even if it wasn’t so clear earlier.”

“You still need help-“

“What I don’t need is to go into a rut smack dab in the middle of Chri-“

“You’re a priest, aren’t you meant to be above all that ancient hormonal-“

“Yes, I’m a priest, so how about you finally show a little respect or courte-“

“As if you’ve shown me even the slightest bit of respect since you went all Alpha with me on the phon-“

“Why are you still here,” he demanded, taking her by the elbows and turning her around. He moved to push her towards the dias steps, both hands splayed across her shoulders, when they heard the distinctive screech-scrape of the outer accessible door.

“Because you needed me,” she countered. “How about some gratitude.”

“Hide,” he hissed, shoving her down inside the tall, curved pulpit. Rey’s back hit the shelf she’d cleaned earlier, rattling the clean water glass and the pens beside the scratchpad.

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her head.

“Please,” he begged, looking down at her, “if anyone knows I had help there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Oh there’s going to be hell to pay,” she threatened in a whisper.

The inner door creaked open, and Rey heard quick footsteps coming up the centre aisle.

“Ushers for tonight bailed, all of them,” came an amused new voice. “Looks like you’re going to have to fold all the bulletins, stuff inserts, prepare the candles, and finish up your scrubbing.” He extended the last two words maliciously. “Learn your lesson yet?”

As the voice grew closer, the priest boxed her in tighter, obscuring the view of her on her knees before him. He casually leaned onto the pulpit, his elbows on the book rest.

“Doable,” he said casually, his foot tapping with tension. “Just drop them there and I’ll get to it once I’ve got everything back in place.”

Rey dropped a hand onto his moving shoe, and squeezed his ankle in warning. She followed that with some gentle strokes. Calm Alpha. Good Alpha. Protect the Omega by being calm.

The foot stopped, but a different problem arose. Ben’s sudden erection was swelling enthusiastically in the confined space between them, poking her directly in the cheek. There was nowhere for her to go while the two men traded barbs. 

The smell of him this close was intoxicating.

“Are you deliberately trying to waste my time, Hux?” Ben said with acid, shifting his hip to try to spare her clothed caresses from his uncomfortably hard penis. She wondered if he could smell how her body was reacting. Hux’s voice was so close. She slipped a hand into his cassock skirt and pulled him flush against her face. “Don’t you have things to do? Doesn’t Snoke expect you back to wipe his ass for him?”

“Why yes, I do need to go to the cathedral. Enjoy your piddly little service tonight, Solo.”

“I will,” Ben growled, watching the man drop his dusty boxes on the pristine flower display table, knock over the poinsettia, and retreat with a bounce in his step.

They stayed in that position until they heard the outer door, Rey breathing hard into the fabric next to her lips. She knew nothing about taking a man into her mouth, but dear lord did she feel like trying at the moment.

“Oh God,” he breathed. “Omega- Rey, you’re killing me, the scent of you right now is actually killing me.”

“Pretty sure murder is a sin,” she murmured, sliding a hand up his pant leg under the cassock towards the fascinating imposition.

“I can’t,” he cried out softly. Her fingers stroked the length of him experimentally. She pulled her hand back at his declaration, but there was nowhere else for her to go.

“Then you need to step away and let me get up,” she said bluntly, “because my body is telling me to do things I’m pretty sure your God would frown on.”

“Let’s give a bit more credit to the entity that created the orgasm,” he rushed out. 

He didn’t move.

“Are you hoping if you don’t outright consent, it somehow won’t count against you,” Rey asked, rubbing her cheek against the bulk of him. She’d always expected her first kiss to be with another mouth, but needs must, and she needed. 

“Touch me,” he pleaded, his fingernails digging into the soft pine.

Unzipping his fly was enough to free him, bursting out like a trapped animal between the sides of the unbuttoned cassock bottom. Rey ran her fingers down into his pants, looped around the knot a few times, and then brought them up to the smooth tip. Above her Ben shuddered.

“How long has it been,” she breathed against the soft, damp skin.

“Forever,” he moaned. “Had a rut in seminary, locked myself in for a miserable week.”

“Poor Father Ben,” she said, curiously licking up the fluid he was leaking. “No wonder you’re such an asshole.”

“What’s your excuse then,” he gasped, feeling a generous amount of his penis be wrapped in the moist heat of her mouth.

“Similar,” she admitted.

It didn’t take long for Rey to figure out what would bring him to his knees. Methodically sucking and licking, tormenting him with her hands, she felt a pulsing change under the fingers caressing his where his knot would be during intercourse. Curious and ready, Rey let him pour down her throat, massaging him along with her coaxing tongue. 

Well, there’s my ticket to hell, Rey thought, his seed warming her empty stomach.

Ben was letting out a quiet mix of blasphemy and profanity as he finished when they heard a woman’s voice at the side door.

“Father Ben?”

“Carol,” he said politely, sweaty hands reaching for the scratchpad and pen and putting them visibly on the book rest. He was scrawling random words, head down as he tried to control his breathing, when the congregant appeared on the other side of the piano barrier. She wouldn’t be able to see over, but Ben also couldn’t move.

“I heard about the ushers, so I came early. If you can help me move the programs up to the office I can get them sorted out.” 

If Rey had to put a word to the tone, she’d have said flirtatious.

_ Barking up the wrong tree there _ , she thought, wiping semen from the corner of her mouth with a fingertip.  _ The man is a priest after all. _

A note dropped to the floor beside her.

_ Help me _

As gently and silently as she could, Rey poked his overstimulated penis back into his boxers and trousers, and eased up the zipper. She fastened up the skirt and settled it smoothly. His legs were trembling. She patted his knee, letting know he was good.

“I think turn out will pretty decent tonight too, I hope you’re using the big coffee-“ he was rambling as he wrote, “-just need to finish these last minute sermon notes.”

“Oh, you know what?” Carol was saying. “This box isn’t as heavy as it looks. You finish your notes, I’ll take these up and get started.”

After a few minutes of shuffling the side door clicked shut and Rey was being hauled to her feet.

“Can I touch you,” he said, his pupils large and his face flushed with the scent of her.

“Yes, Alpha,” she said, slick to the knees down her tights. “But we’ll have to be fast.”

He crushed her into a furious kiss, backing her into the communion table.

“Sent to torture me,” he mumbled, his hands working under her skirt to expose her.

“You made me come here with your stupid book,” she countered, licking at the rough skin under his jaw and sucking it in.

Pushing aside the silver dishes and cloth they’d carefully set back out earlier, Ben hoisted her up onto the heavy table. Her ruined stockings and underwear around her ankles, her shirt pushed up and bra pushed down, he spread her knees.

“I never expected to feel this way,” he ground out, eyes wild and hands possessively curling around her thighs. “I’ve laughed off temptation so many times, but Rey, with you-“ he trailed off, crouching suddenly to bury his face between her legs.

She bit her hand to stop herself from crying out, a strange rightness flooding through her even though she was exposed on the altar of an unlocked church sanctuary. Ben ate through her, his tongue demanding, hollowing her out even while his fingers stretched and filled any empty spaces. When she thought she couldn’t take more he proved her wrong, three thick fingers making a mess of her virgin cunt on the polished wooden table.

As she started to lose herself, spread out like a willing sacrifice to an older god under the tall stained glass saints of the twilight-dark church, Ben leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“I want to fuck you, Rey. I want to see you stretched out and weeping for my knot, dripping with my cum. You already have a bellyful, but I’ll fill you up.”

Rey came harder than she thought possible, his words ringing in her ears, his fingers plundering new territory inside of her. He rode out her orgasm with gentle pulsing sucks to her clitoris. 

When she could see again, she focused on the fan-blown blue tarp above her.

Ben was cleaning her up.

He tucked her breasts back into her bra, pulled down her shirt, smoothed her skirt over her quivering legs. Sliding his hand down each calf, he removed and bundled her undergarments.

“You can go home now, and never have to deal with me again, or you can go lock yourself in my office and wait for me to finish the service,” he said softly, handing her her clothes. The intensity in his voice brought another wave of slick trailing down her thigh.

She eyed the table. It was soaked. Rey retrieved the paper towel and bottle of cleaner from the top of the rail with slow, unsteady steps and cleaned it. Ben restored the cloth and dishes, watching her.

“I’ll wait,” she said firmly, examining him. With still-trembling fingers, Rey straightened his damp clerical collar and smoothed his hair. Streaks of plaster aged him, but covered the sticky spots she’d left.

“This is the only key,” he said, pulling it off a slim key ring. “So you can even keep me out, if you want.”

The space between their bodies felt wrong, and the wrongness grew as the space increased.

Ben went down to the last of the boxes from Hux, and pulled out a package of clear plastic cups with star-shaped holes in the bottom. Ripping the package open with anxious energy, he quickly started shoving small tapered candles into each hole and tossing the completed ones on the pew beside the box.

“What are these?”

“We turn off the lights and light them during Silent Night at the end.”

“Wax burns?”

“Every damn year.”

“Want some help,” she asked, a candle snapping in two as she tried to stick it through the cup’s grips.

“No,” Ben said quickly, taking it from her. “No, you need to go. To be blunt, you look and smell like sex, even without being in heat, and I’m not the only Alpha in this congregation. I think even a Beta would smell me on you.”

“Plus you’d forget every word of your sermon.”

“Plus I’d forget every word of my sermon,” he agreed, pulling her in for a kiss that left her with a melting sensation.

The key pressed into her palm, Rey left the children’s book on the pulpit, and brought her things into the dark corridor where she’d seen Carol disappear. 

Ben’s office was close, and she gratefully slipped inside as she saw the cheerful volunteer coming around a corner. There was no lock on the door, and it took Rey a moment to realize the office had a reception and another door to an inner work sanctum.

The outer area was an explosion of Christmas gifts. All addressed to Father Ben, there were stacks of boxed chocolates topped with shiny bows, hand knit mittens and afghans, tins of home baked treats, cellophane-wrapped baskets of snacks, bottles of wine and whiskey, and crates of fragrant clementines. Rey frowned at the stack, something familiar to the particular mix of the presents.

Stealing a box of Ben’s Turtles, a few clementines, and bottle of a dry red to ease her grumbling stomach, Rey locked herself into the area where Ben actually worked.

An ancient wing-backed chair and footstool sat by the window overlooking the snowy lamp lit graveyard. A stone cold cup of coffee had been abandoned on the broad sill next to an overturned Kierkegaard. Rey picked up the splayed text and smoothed bent pages thick with marginalia, shutting it carefully before putting it back.

The room was lined with books on every wall, stacked on the floor, creeping across the floral 90’s couch in piles. They didn’t appear to be in any sort of order, and she trailed her fingers down the spines growing more angry and excited as she hit Tolkien followed by marriage counselling texts followed by a handyman’s guide to Victorian plumbing followed by the complete works of Christine de Pizan. Clark Pinnock sat next to Neil Gaiman, and A Grief Observed next to yellowed fragments of the White Rose cookbook.

Intolerable.

Rey cracked open the wine and unwrapped a chocolate.

Absolutely, delightfully intolerable.

Rey had created eighteen distinct genre and subgenre zones on the dingy grey carpet when the brown box on the wall created a noise that nearly made her jump out of her over-stimulated skin.

It was a variation of Handel’s Messiah, broadcast from the sanctuary on a tinny old audio system. She listened, hearing the background noise of the congregation chatting being picked up by the microphones. The service was beginning.

Going to back her work, she half-listened to the lessons and carols, read by a variety of families. She could hum along to some of the tunes while she emptied Ben’s shelves onto the floor.

The children’s time was a disaster.

When his rich voice emerged through the box, though, her body demanded she pay attention. It thrummed through her, prickling her delicate glands, suffusing her with heat.

Rey took another gulp of wine, and ate three clementines in quick succession, trying to quench the thirst parching her.

She pulled apart another book shelf.

The book didn’t interest the kids, and she could hear them restless and bored, starting little conversations of their own while he read. He gave up, saying with manufactured patience that they’d finish it on Sunday, and dismissing the kids to their treats and games.

Rey would pay for that embarrassment, she imagined with a smirk. Asshole.

Ben’s sermon was confident, though, preaching on generosity of spirit, based jointly in fact-based research and theology. Getting into his groove, he didn’t sound anything like the angry man who’d demanded she deliver his book, or sarcastic man who grudgingly accepted her help cleaning, or the desperate man who’d stood in that exact spot not too much earlier, begging her to touch him.

A chequebook and several identification sized cards fell out of a hollow copy of Moll Flanders, hitting Rey’s bare feet. She went to tuck them back in the book when she caught the name on every single piece.

Kylo Ren’s cheques.

Kylo Ren’s expired student card.

Kylo Ren’s hydro bill dated several years earlier.

Kylo Ren’s driver’s license, peeling suspiciously at one corner, the photo of a younger Ben slightly askew.

Pieces clicked together.

“A trust-fund wanker trying to assuage his guilt,” she repeated slowly, shoving everything back in and throwing the fake book on the desk. She considered the treats outside in reception. Yes, they were the usual composition of the treat hamper delivered every New Years for the kids, minus the booze of course. “That bastard,” she said, stripping shelves with more gusto, a confusion of feelings driving her to work faster.

When the recessional had ended, hands had been shaken, and Ben returned to his office, it was to a bit of a shock among what had been an alarming day.

Every shelf was bare.

Rey strode back from where she’d let him in at the door to his desk, where regardless of the lack of garments under her skirt, she sat cross legged on his desk. Surveying the unsteady towers of books like her army, she ignored his sputters.

“Don’t touch anything until I say so,” she demanded, hopping down to smack his hand away from picking up a pile.

“Anything or any books,” he asked, eyeing her bottom as he pulled off his blue advent stole and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. 

“The books,” she corrected absently, organizing a pile of old hymnals on the chair.

He came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him. She tipped her head up, ready for a kiss, when he wrinkled his nose.

“Were you drinking?”

“You can check the bottle, it was less than a glass.”

He eyeballed the empty space in the wine bottle neck, and nodded.

“Good, you’re going to need your wits about you.” Fingers that still smelled faintly of vagina even after a hundred hand shakes began to work her shirt back out of her skirt.

She let him slip her shirt off, surprised she didn’t mind being exposed in only her bra and skirt, but drew a temporary line there.

“Help me put the books back in their new homes first,” she ordered, her hair finally abandoning the clip that had held it through the cleaning and other adventures.

Not wanting to leaving his office in this state either, Ben agreed to return books to the highest shelves at her direction.

“Oh, I see I’m busted,” he said quietly, picking Moll Flanders off the desk and examining the out of order documents inside.

“How can someone so generous to kids be such an asshole to adults?”

“Adults have earned it, usually,” he shrugged, tucking the book up onto a top shelf between two Hebrew primers. Rey scowled, and climbed like an indignant monkey to retrieve it.

“Like me today?” She put the book on top of the stack of classic fiction on the couch.

Ben frowned at an old theology text.

“This is so out of date I shouldn’t even donate it,” he assessed, dropping it into the recycling bin under his desk.

She cleared her throat, unimpressed.

“I will apologize as many times as necessary,” he said, meeting her eyes from across the room. She looked powerful in the small space, half naked and furious like a librarian warrior goddess. “I’m sorry I was such a dick on the phone. You’ve duly punished me, though. That book was garbage.”

“No book is truly garbage.”

He gestured to the recycling bin.

“Okay, maybe that one.”

“Why are you donating anonymously?”

“Snoke would find a way to force me to donate the whole account to his cathedral fund.”

“And the hamper?”

“If I tried to eat all those sweets myself my pancreas would crawl out my belly button.”

Rey stared at the spot behind his white robes where his taut belly button sat, waiting to be licked, and blushed.

“Let’s get down to business here,” she said briskly.

“Show me again,” he said, frustration growing as they bickered half an hour later, “show me again where this goes.”

“Here,” Rey said, annoyed. She reached up on tippy toes and slapped an empty shelf. The glistening curve of ass that appeared under her skirt as she rose changed his priorities. He pinned her to the shelf, rubbing his newfound erection against her bare bottom.

“Do you still want me,” he asked softly in her ear, unfastening her bra. “You smell like you don’t just want me, you need me.”

“God yes,” she moaned, a book dropping out of her hand as she balanced against the shelves. He pressed her forward until her breasts mashed against the books.

“You dropped one of my books,” he accused dangerously.

“Just this once.”

He turned her head back and up to kiss him, sweeping her mouth with his tongue, and plunging his fingers back into the pool of slick beginning to drip onto the carpet.

“What do you want,” he demanded, “say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she said sharply, angling her bottom up higher.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, reverently stroking inside of her.

“Never. You?”

“Not all the way, no, I’ve never been interested until you,” he admitted, his free hand working at fasteners.

“Probably a good thing in someone sworn to chastity,” Rey pointed out, wanting to remind him of the choice he was making before he crossed that line.

He stopped, his swollen dick throbbing urgently against her lower back.

”Is this a role play thing to you?”

“What does that mean?” 

“Is this a priest kink thing to you?”

Rey was thoughtful, her fingers tight on the bookshelf with back-burnered need.

”This is an Alpha make the Omega spread open before you happy thing,” she said sharply.

“I am supposed to help people find their joy,” he responded, gliding his fingers through and into and around her labia and then transferring the natural lubricant to his penis.

“Mine is currently in your pants,” she breathed, her nipples sharp against the bindings of a matched set of expository books on the gospels.

“One step ahead of you.” She felt a wide, blunt nudge between her legs.

“I’m a virgin,” she turned and reminded him, remembering the size of him in her mouth. His face was soft, but his eyes intense, black hair falling wildly. “You’ll need to-“

He kissed her again, his gentle tongue pulling moans from her as he lifted her up, braced her again against the shelves. One hand between her legs to guide, he smoothly stretched her the first inch around the head of him.

“I know,” he breathed, releasing her mouth only for a moment before recapturing her lips. Distracted by his kisses, Rey only half-noticed the burning push of him creeping deeper and deeper inside of her. Her body was welcoming him, soaking him in slick, making every effort to accommodate the massive size of him.

Ben struggled to breath, the fingers on the hands he had under her ass cheek and at her lower back flexing into her skin as he bottomed out. He felt like he was going to pass out, buried to the balls in Rey, drowning in her scent.

A puff of cool air against his chest anchored him.

In his distracted reverie, Rey had unbuttoned his white surplice and black cassock, and pushed them aside to bare him down to where their bodies met.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, his collar crumpled in her hand, pressing into the side his neck. “Ben, look.”

He followed her awestruck stare to the obscene view of her dripping folds straining around the heavy girth of him. She was pulled wide, bulging out at the abdomen, her clit taut against his already swelling knot.

“No going back now,” he whispered, pressing her closer. The drag of her hard nipples and soft, small breasts down his skin made him twitch inside her and she groaned, squeezing around him. Her vagina was achingly hot as he began to try moving.

A cry tore out of Rey, not of pain but of being overwhelmed.

“Too much,” Ben asked, pausing. Drips of sweat were forming in the groove of muscles down his spine with the effort.

It was too much, but the hell if that was going to stop Rey from enjoying every moment of being split apart by the devastating priest between her thighs.

“Keep going,” she ordered fiercely, trying to thrust herself down on him, “keep going no matter what, Ben.”

He obeyed, broad hands helping his legs drive into her at an increasingly punishing pace.

“Fill you up,” he said dreamily, the thumb of the huge hand holding her back able to stroke the distended plane of her stomach. “Won’t take long.”

“Yes, Alpha,” she breathed, seeing stars as it felt like her body was shaking apart from the core out with every thrust. Rey clenched tightly down onto him, beginning to trap the fat knot on his weeping cock, insensible mumbles and pleas pouring out with her gushing cum. It became difficult to pull the knot free of her orgasming muscles, and Ben knew he needed to think fast.

Swallowing up her bare ass under the skirt with both hands, he carried her, still deep inside and thrusting up, until he could collapse into his reading chair. Straddling his lap, Rey could see parishioners wandering the little cemetery in the snow and briefly prayed they didn’t look up at the second floor office.

Gravity sank Ben deeper still as Rey’s weight settled onto him, and she groaned at the new invasion. He used his freed up hands to palm her breasts, sucking one in whole while he came with an explosive volley of semen inside her. Clutching her close like he was afraid she’d escape, Ben’s knot locked them in place, flooding her with seed.

“Dear Lord,” he panted, kissing her over and over. Rey felt a heavy peace, rich and numbing, wash through her, and met his feverish kisses with languid pleasure. Petting his hair, feeling lazy strokes of his tongue on her breasts, they sat in the dimly lit office joined together. He wrapped the loose skirts of his open robes around her for warmth.

In the quiet moment they could hear the snow falling against the window.

“I wish I knew how late Hux will be out at the downtown cathedral,” he murmured into her neck. “We share the manse here.”

“My roommate is away tonight and tomorrow for Christmas with her partner, you can come to mine, but I imagine we won’t be to make this a regular occurrence,” Rey said sadly, remembering once again that the man was still committing a forbidden act, still planting gentle pulses of semen deep inside of her.

“We’ll have to find somewhere more appropriate than my actual sanctified workplace,” he countered, “but I don’t see why we shouldn’t if you want to. I know we just met a few hours ago, which is just wild, but honestly I think this is already something… special. It wouldn’t kill me to consider an apartment. Plus you have to finish putting my library back together.”

“Ben,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the spot where his collar had been replaced by a darkening bite mark. “I really, really like you, which considering how we met is incredible in itself, but eventually you’ll get caught, and then what? Leave your order, your job, your vocation?”

“Rey, how little do you actually know about this church?”

“I’ve read most of The Da Vinci Code,” she admitted. “Saw something about a new pope and some magic smoke a few years ago.”

To her surprise, Ben chuckled. The movement tugged at his knot, still wedged firmly into her. His fingers trailed down to her slick centre, making her gasp. There was mischief in his sweet brown eyes as he took in her lovely brilliance.

“As it seems we have some time, how about I go over the relevant differences between Catholicism and Anglicanism, sweetheart.”


End file.
